Sharon M Wiliams

When the Ice Cream is Low 

When the ice cream is low and there's not a lot, a lot

Not a word I like to use

When there's not a lot for the both of us

I buy a new carton

I tell myself it's to make you smile/remind you of home

I tell myself it's a starter for our gay, gay conversation

And to revel like children in our playful excess

What a wonderful afternoon—in my mind

 

I walk a mile of city streets to the grocery store

Dig through the cold freezer

Stand in line behind the woman with only three items

But needs cigarettes, hard liquor and has a checkbook

There’s water crawling on my upper lip

Underneath that God-forsaken mask

I remember my spirituality and correct myself

God-given—God-given mask

Too many thoughts

 

Please don't put that ridiculously long receipt

In the bag on top of the ice cream

This is not an experiment

Paper, ink and water are gross. I have long nails.

He doesn't read my mind, tells me to have a nice day

And calls me by the wrong name

I'm not wearing a watch and I don’t have a bomb

But I hear ticking, ticking, ticking

 

I have to jog, sprint, run home

Not to serve you chocolate soup and paper mâché

When I tell you about my day, I will use imagery. I am a good host.

I will say, the ringlets curling over the tip of my ear were slightly damp

And I had a few drops of perspiration over my barely braised brow

I won't tell you I should have taken the car

That the walk didn't make me any younger or a better host

I won't tell you the polyester and cotton blend athletic wear

Must have forgotten the cotton

I would have died—

If it wasn't for that one tree-lined street

I won't tell you I was angry again at the ridiculously long receipt

But this time for drinking my water

 

I won't tell you how one scoop in our bowls would have been enough

Unpublished Manuscript Dark Days Light

Victory

Scattered wisdom unites/sealing the cracks of doubt

Look high/jet streams of greatness dancing in the air

Baby elephants splashing/stumbling with joy/a mud haven

Learning how to swing their illustrious trunks

Human hearts, liquid pools

When love boomerangs from the womb

 

Stepping through the open door to happiness

Our birthright from the nest

Children called to wander/search/delve deep

Lay on mother earth

Human soul—to rich soil, a simple smile

Squirrels pause, weeds retreat

Babies’ eyes reflect the insight of water

The miracle of tears

 

Coming to know the highest self

A triumph beyond any teaching

Braving the diagnosis

Being the nonconformist

Thriving in spite of/because of

The wounded self

Say I love you first—

Then, say nothing else

 

Put the closet—in a closet

Drop it off a cliff

Stand nude

Carry the last mile

A wide lens with a pinhole view

Start and finish lines are the same

 

Now rest,

As seeds in the ground burrowed to the earth’s core

A pink translucent snailfish, still

At the bottom of the sea/exquisite anointed hands

Gracing a bowed cheek—

Rest

Unpublished Manuscript Dark Days Light